


Scully's Friend pt. 3

by somekindofseizure



Series: WTID Supplemental Reading [18]
Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 16:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofseizure/pseuds/somekindofseizure
Summary: Your Je Joue Fictorial c/o Stella Gibson.





	Scully's Friend pt. 3

Stella waits a moment for the tap to warm while she roots around in Scully’s impressively minimalist bathroom for something to clean her face with. She finds it amongst tooth whiteners and floss and contact solution: organic and creamy, smells like the wet center of a just-spliced cucumber. She is suddenly sad for the fact of sunscreen and serums and makeup and more sunscreen, for how it buries this cool freshness on those double cheek kisses she shares with Scully as often as she can justify to herself.

She lathers and examines the décor in the dim glow of a nightlight. Mimi is sitting on the counter on a folded white washcloth drying and she realizes Scully washed it while she was napping. The thought of her standing here soaping it over with the same thing she’s working into a stubborn slow foam for her face makes her smile, makes her hide it in her hand before re-entering the living room. 

Scully lies on the couch with her head propped on the low arm, a novel propped across her belly, a pair of sleek black plastic-framed glasses across her nose.

“Well, those are nice,” she says, sipping the glass of water Scully left her on the side table. The couch is very large and it’s no wonder she was able to nap on one end without ever having any sense Scully was anywhere on it. The whole place is so unlike what she would have imagined for her own closest acquaintance.

“Getting old,” Scully pretend pouts, in reference to the glasses.

Stella clicks her tongue with over-embellished pathos.

“Yes, poor baby Scully getting old now.”

Scully chuckles.

“Want me to leave you alone?” Stella asks politely. Scully closes the book, though she keeps a finger in.

“No…” she says with a slight inquisitiveness. Stella reaches over Scully and removes one of the thick marshmallow back cushions and climbs over, slinks down into the interior edge and leans on her elbow.

“Go ahead, keep reading,” she says, studying the sharp edge of the optical frame, the way it intersects Scully’s high cheekbone at a nearly right angle, the way it catches the light and draws attention to her already attention-drawing face. Scully narrows her eyes behind the glass in suspicion, in anticipation, but goes back to reading.

Stella presses the plus sign on the toy just once and it buzzes so quietly that once she moves it under the hem of Scully’s sweatshirt, it is inaudible. Scully squirms, laughing as it dances against her side.

“Stop. Tickles.”

“Take it.”

Scully puts the book on the floor without bothering to bookmark her spot and goes to remove her glasses, ready to switch out one set of plans for another. But Stella likes to combine, mix and match.

“No,” Stella says, holding them in place on Scully’s nose. “For me.” 

And Scully leaves them. She reaches under her sweatshirt and lets Stella give her the smooth, fat, flat egg, from under one palm to another, a pebble passing magic trick. Stella brings her hand back up where her audience of one can see it, rests her arm over Scully’s shoulder.

“Are you actually going to touch me this time?”

“No. I want to make sure you know how to use this once I’m gone.”

“I’m fifty years old, I have a medical degree and FBI training, I think I can sleuth it out.”

“Let’s see.”

Scully moves the toy down below the waist of her pants, sends the speed up all the way.

“Take it easy there, killer.”

Scully laughs. 

“Hard to feel which button is which.”

Stella takes on her most teacherly tone.

“When you first put it in your hand, make sure the plus sign is already under your thumb. Use that as your home base. Like… mm… typing class.”

“ASDF,” Scully slurs and for some reason the image of her at a hard-clicking heavy Olivetti typewriter with these glasses makes Stella almost grab the toy from her.

“Yes, well. You move the thumb from the space bar only when necessary. By one key, you’re changing patterns, by two, you’re calming the fuck down.”

The toy gets slower.

“Yes, master,” Scully teases, though Stella never takes such a word lightly. She licks her lips, passes her top teeth over the rough chapped edges at the center of the bottom one and chews it a bit. She leaves Scully to her own… device… for a moment.

“So you’ve had the hardest part against your clitoris, yes?”

“Yes,” Scully sighs, pretending to be bored.

“Dragging a little?”

“A little. But it feels okay anyway.”

“Turn it sideways. Keep your thumb over home base.”

“On the…”

“Yes, the edge right between your labia.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Now, if you rock that forward and back on its vertical axis, dipping the tip inside on the far end and then letting it slide around a bit on the return, it will feel almost exactly like a hand, a woman’s hand. And you should get a little slip after a couple times.”

Scully says nothing, opens her mouth wider, closes her eyes. She’s done making fun now and just as well because Stella didn’t send her a hundred dollar toy just to fuck around like an amateur.

“I don’t know that I’m going to get this… hum….. mm…. slip?… when you’re not lying here next to me whispering in my ear like this.”

“You will. Now a little faster.”

It speeds up enough that Stella can hear it again.

“Good girl, you’ve got your thumb in place.”

“Don’t say that unless you want this to end very abruptly.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Turn it flat again now, wider surface area against you so it almost feels wrong, like it’s not getting to you in enough places, hm?”

“Yeah.”

“But use that same rocking motion, slide it from the very hard wide part to the softer tip against your clitoris. Like you’re rubbing up against a hard dick. You want to feel the tip occasionally but mostly you want the friction of the base. It’s like a human being this way, can’t give it to you everywhere all at once.”

“I have a human being here.”

“Ssh, do it. Slide the full length of the curve against your clit.”

Scully gulps.

“Press the middle button.”

“But—“

“Do it.”

Scully does.

“Just a few seconds on each pattern, just so you don’t get numb, to keep your body guessing.”

“I don’t want to guess.”

“You just think that.”

Scully lets her head roll to the side to face Stella.

“Kiss me.”

Stella puts a finger over her lips and Scully groans, bites it hard with bared teeth and then lets it go.

“Are you ready?” Stella asks.

“I’m ready, but I don’t think I’m close, it’s not quite…”

“Take it back to steady,” and Scully cycles through to the flat, straight buzzing.

“Now, I want you to hold it against your clit with the heel of your hand and move your hand down so you can reach inside just an inch or two.”

Scully furrows her brow, confused. Stella takes her hand from Scully’s shoulder and slips touchlessly into the tunnel held open by Scully’s forearm between pants and her abdomen, puts hand over hand and Scully’s whole body spasms.

“Fuck, Stella, come on, this is…” and she sounds angry a second, but then laughs and then pants, “This is absurd.”

Stella keeps her concentration though her own heart is speeding, her own pussy wet and creamy as her face in the mirror a moment ago. She leans her nose into Scully’s cheek, just below the arm of her glasses and breathes deeply. She’s not wearing makeup, it’s too late for sunscreen and too early for serum – so there is that cucumber smell. This is how she is at home, on an average Wednesday night rather than in some fancy hotel with her packed bag and her man waiting somewhere. Clean-faced and spectacled, laughing and relaxed, melting into her couch. It’s how Stella wants her and how Stella fears her.

She moves Scully’s hand into the position she described, helping her get the toy couched in the heart of her palm while she extends Scully’s longest finger into her pussy. She is careful not to touch it herself. And then, as though teaching someone to ride a bike, balancing them before letting them pedal alone, she backs her hand up and away.

“Oh, I see,” Scully mutters in a very raspy voice.

Stella’s breath quickens and she feels her breasts push deeper into Scully’s arm – the working arm.

“Now,” she says, struggling to keep the tenor of her voice from shifting an octave up. They are opposites this way, their voices travel opposite directions on the scale with increasing pleasure. “Rock the hand at the wrist. Try to forget the toy is even there.”

“And forget you’re here.”

“Yes.”

“Just me and Madame Middle Finger.”

Stella laughs briefly and resists the urge to climb on top of her.

“Yes.”

“Concentrate on finding your G-spot and pressing – you can dip, push, swirl—“

“I know what to do with my G-spot thank you very much—“

“I know you do. Just let the toy ride along.”

“It’s so hot. I mean… it’s warm. Like a body.”

“Yes.”

“Is it malfunctioning? Is it going to catch fire or something?”

“No.”

“Oh God. Touch, me, Stell. Anywhere.”

Stella puts her hand across the length of Scully’s jaw, chin in her hand like the toy sits in Scully’s. She takes Scully’s pulse as it patters and jumps, varying cycles and speeds, just like the toy.

“So you do that,” she says. “With Madame Middlefinger—“

Scully gasps as though she hadn’t just been the one to coin the phrase. It does sound different coming out of Stella’s mouth.

“And now you can hit the plus button all the way up. You let the toy roll against your clit as though it’s a stronger, harder, vibrating version of your own wrist.”

“It feels like… a tongue, like a face… when it’s wet like this.”

Her face begins to contort and she puts her free hand overhead, squeezes the arm of the couch.

“Fuck.”

She turns her face away from Stella’s and lifts her shoulder to her mouth, muffles herself with it, bites her shoulder and Stella’s heart stops for a second, her hips press along their parallel forward into Scully’s perpendicular one.

“Nnghghd,” Scully says, misplaced fingertips all over the typewriter.

“Now, stop moving your hand,” Stella rushes quickly. “Madame and Mimi both tight, still.”

Scully’s arm shakes like she’s holding a plank position she can’t sustain and Stella turns her face back so Scully says it to her nose to nose. The glasses steam.

“I’m going to come.”

“Yes. Good Girl.”

Scully’s voice catches and her neck arches.

“Stella,” she says like a reproach and a renewal at once.

Her arm spasms once sharply and Stella steadies it with her hand to prevent her from wrenching the toy away from her body suddenly. 

“Keep it there, turn it down to one.”

Scully catches her breath.

“It’s too… I can’t…”

“Just move it slightly, release the pressure behind your finger but keep it there.”

Scully sighs vocally, her arm muscle relaxing beneath Stella’s touch, her freckles turning white even under Stella’s softest grip. Her eyes have to roll just to right themselves as she lifts her lids. She collapses onto her side and drops the toy on the sofa between them.

“That’s something,” she says, and then looks shyly up at Stella, dropping an arm over her waist. She lifts the back of Stella’s shirt and puts her wet finger on Stella’s spine. “When am I going to get to teach you something?”

“Believe me. You have.”


End file.
